


Firsthand Experience

by blueskyscribe



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24396973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueskyscribe/pseuds/blueskyscribe
Summary: Smokescreen just wanted to get out of the base for a little bit.  He wasn't expecting to run into a Terrorcon . . . yet here he was!
Comments: 21
Kudos: 34





	Firsthand Experience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Opatoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opatoes/gifts).



It took Smokescreen just a day to explore the Autobot base. It was small. It was cramped. It had some really weirdly shaped rooms due to the limitations of being built inside a monumental rock. It was distinctly utilitarian compared to the elegant architecture of the Iacon Hall of Records.

He absolutely loved it.

He'd been at Team Prime's Earth base a full week and _still_ woke up at night questioning whether it was all some wonderful dream. After _years_ of guarding a bunch of boring books and boring datapads he was finally gonna see some action, shoot some 'Cons, and _win the war!_

Or, er, _help_ win the war. And! He was going to do it side by side with none other than _Optimus Prime!_

His joy demanded an outlet. Bouncing on his heels, he shadow-boxed at the wall. When he caught sight of a yellow bot coming down the hall he shifted focus.

"Hey Bee, let's spar!" Smokescreen danced towards him, feinting with his fists as he grinned.

"Smokescreen!" Bumblebee warbled, swooping low to the floor to scoop something off the floor. A small human with glasses blinked, now cradled in Bee's arms. "Careful!"

"Oops, sorry," Smokescreen said sheepishly. "I'll watch my step from now on—promise. But about sparring, the offer still stands!"

"Can't." Bumblebee shook his head. 

"Bee's helping me with my homework," the tiny human piped up. 

Smokescreen managed not to jump back in surprise. He'd heard the humans talk before and he understood they were intelligent beings, he really did. But they were sooo tiny it was hard _not_ to think of them as cute little pets.

"Oh, okay. Well . . ." Smokescreen scrubbed at the back of his helm. "Good luck with the homework!"

He didn't offer to help. It sounded as boring as guarding Alpha Trion had been.

Instead he continued down the hall until clanking sounds from the exercise room caught his attention.

"You can do it, Bulkhead, c'mon! No, don't quit now! Lift! LIFT!"

Now _this_ human, the loud one, was easy to notice. Currently she was standing on a bot-sized bench, fists clenched, as Bulkhead lifted a metal weight ball. She cheered as Bulkhead, with a gasp of effort, pulled the ball to chest height. His massive hands clamped around it on either side, almost hiding it, but the pose only lasted a moment; his trembling arms gave out and the ball bounced from his grasp, rolling to Smokescreen's pedes.

"Uh, hey guys!" Smokescreen said with a little wave as they stared, now alerted to his presence. He picked up the ball and turned it in his hands. "I was just walking by and . . . Hey, can I help you work out and stuff?"

"No thanks, I was just leaving." Bulkhead lumbered past him, his jaw clenched. "Don't want to be in the way of the _worthwhile_ Autobots."

"But _Bulk_ head, Ratchet said you need to do those exercises! Twice a day!" The human jumped off the bench and ran after the green bot, hardly sparing a glance for Smokescreen.

The rookie sighed. Looked like the big guy still thought of Smokescreen as "his replacement". It sucked that he'd been weakened by Tox-En, but that wasn't Smokescreen's fault! He hadn't even arrived on Earth yet. Maybe if Bulkhead recovered he'd be a little nicer . . . 

Smokescreen set the medicine ball in the corner and exited the room, just in case Bulk's human friend convinced him to return.

He wandered into the relic room; it was locked, but as Smokescreen had permanently borrowed the Phase Shifter, he had no problem getting in. So far no one had forced him to return it and he hoped if he was subtle about it, no one would. Not that he was great at subtle, he could admit that . . . 

The relics were cool and Alpha Trion would probably be gushing over them if he were here. Well, not "gushing", but he'd be interested. For Smokescreen, though, they held limited appeal when they weren't in use.

Exiting through the wall, he continued on down the hallway, following it until it opened up into the big room with the communications console on one side and a raised platform with cute little furniture for the humans on the other. The huge Autobot symbol stenciled onto the floor stared up gravely, lifting Smokescreen's spirits. Looking across the room, he saw the team's medic was on comm duty. 

"Hi Ratchet!"

Ratchet grunted, not tearing his optics away from the datapad he was studying. A week ago Smokescreen might have thought Ratchet was upset with him, but in the interim he'd discovered Ratchet was just Like That.

Optimus wasn't around, but that was no surprise to Smokescreen, who had memorized the big rig's patrol schedule. "Back in five Earth hours," he said in an undertone.

Ratchet finally glanced over. "Hm? Did you say something?"

Smokescreen was saved from having to reply when Arcee sped into the room in vehicle form, skidding into a carefully controlled stop. Only when the figure on her back climbed off did Smokescreen realize it was not a holo-form, but her human friend Jack.

"That," Jack said, pulling off his helmet to reveal tousled hair and a grin, "was awesome. The look on Vince's face when you left him in the dust—"

"Have you two been joyriding? I _sent_ you to take some energy readings." Ratchet crossed his arms.

"Relax, Ratch," Arcee said, transforming to reveal a smile. "We scouted the place like you asked. It's not our fault we ran across the human blowhard on the way back."

"So where'd you guys go?" Smokescreen broke in. 

Smokescreen knew he hadn't exactly impressed her his first couple days, but it was a bummer to see her smile become thinner, more tempered. At least it didn't disappear completely, though.

"About 100 miles east of Jasper. It's a whole lot of nothing out there." Her glance returned to Ratchet as she shrugged. "And that's what we found. Nothing."

"But that's absurd. After that debacle with the space bridges, no energy fluxes? No odd readings? Nothing?"

"What debacle?" Smokescreen asked.

"There was a mix up with two space bridges," Jack explained from the floor. "When you open two of them close together—well, just _don't."_

"I suppose you do need to be briefed," Ratchet said, picking up a datapad and throwing it to Smokescreen. "There, study that."

"Thanks," the rookie said, retreating as Arcee and Ratchet returned to their conversation. He gave Jack a smile and a wave as he started down the hall. Jack seemed cool.

The dry heat hit him as soon as he stepped out of the base, the sun blazing so strong that Smokescreen had to shield the datapad with his hand to make out the text. Still, he decided to stay outside. The interior of the base was just too cramped.

Following the perimeter of the monumental stone, he came to a sliver of shade and sat down to read. But he was barely two minutes into the report when he bounced to his pedes. "It's only a hundred miles, I can check it out in person. That'll show initiative, right?"

Plus it sounded more entertaining than sitting around! He transformed, pulled up the coordinates from the report, and raced off across the expanse of red, rocky desert.

When he reached the coordinates, he had to agree with Arcee's assessment. It was a whole lot of nothing. Just a barren landscape of pitted boulders with scant vegetation struggling to survive in crevices. Smokescreen wandered around for a bit, climbing over rocks and peering into the gullies that crisscrossed in a meaningless tangle.

Smokescreen kept searching, although the task was quickly losing its luster. Apparently there'd been an entrance to "the Shadowzone" here, but you'd never know it from the look of the place. This was just . . . boring.

If only he'd brought someone along! He thought of Bumblebee scooping up Raf, Miko cheering on Bulkhead, and Jack grinning up at Arcee. Having a pe—a _sidekick_ to take care of and run around with must be so fun. And besides, he wasn't even sure what he was supposed to find. Energy readings? Well, like Arcee had said, everything was reading normal.

"Here energy flux, energy flux," he called as he phased his head out of a rock, accompanied by the quiet hum of the Phase Shifter. "Nope, no energy fluxes here—"

The words died in his vocalizer because suddenly—out of nowhere—a massive bot with wide green wings and purple optics was shambling by. One of his arms ended at the elbow joint, though he clutched a silver arm in his remaining hand—albeit one far too slight and skinny to match the rest of his frame.

"Whoa," Smokescreen whispered, slipping out of the rock and letting the Phase Shifter fall idle. The report that he'd carefully read (okay, skimmed) had mentioned something about a zombie 'Con, but said it was safely contained. Well, Smokescreen would just have to follow him!

Tiptoeing over to a particularly large and determined shrub, he crouched and peeped around it. No sign of the zombie. Had he run off? Huh. He didn't seem super fast. 

Smokescreen rubbed his chin as he listened in vain for the sound of footsteps. He would use the Phase Shifter to take a shortcut through the canyons, he decided; he could hide and ambush the Terrorcon and then . . . uh . . . do something. Capture it? Oh well, he didn't have to figure that part out until he ran across the Decepticon again.

He activated the Phase Shifter and found out that he needed that plan right away after all. The undead bot was _there_ suddenly, not twenty mechanometers away, staring at him as it gnawed at the silver arm dangling from its mouth. Its purple optics narrowed as they fixed on Smokescreen and it lumbered forward.

"Nope!" Smokescreen yelped. Fighting against instinct that urged him to _run, run, run_ , he turned off the Phase Shifter.

The zombie blinked out of sight.

"Whew!" Smokescreen put a hand up to his chest, feeling the wild spin of his spark. Then a grin crept across his face. He could take energy readings after all, and the smart bots like Ratchet could . . . could look at them or whatever! The point was: he would be a useful and contributing member of the team and Optimus would smile at him, probably.

"I just need to be somewhere where Zombie-Con—" Checking the datapad, he found the bot's actual name. "Where _Skyquake_ can't reach me." 

He began to move slowly along the path of the canyon. It was a closed circle, he discovered, with a few little dead ends leading off it. And one of those dead ends was blocked off from the main path by a mess of boulders that not even Smokescreen—or Skyquake, hopefully—could have pushed aside or climbed over.

With a smug smile, Smokescreen activated the Phase Shifter. He could still go _through_ it.

As soon as he was safely ensconced, he started yelling. "Hey, ugly! Yeah, I'm talking to you, you dumb Decepti-creep! Come and get me!"

His plan caught the monster's attention, all right; Smokescreen heard the undead Cybertronian's roar and winced as the rocks trembled under its assault.

"Sorry, big guy!" Smokescreen began recording the data that streamed over his sensors. "No easy meals today. You're—" He heard a light pitter-patter and looked up in time to see a hand skittering into view, held aloft on tarnished fingers. "—out of luck."

The hand threw itself off the ledge, impacting hard enough to throw Smokescreen to the ground as it clamped over his face. The rookie Autobot's scream was muffled against its palm as he tried to pry it off.

Then, gaining a modicum of self-control, he deactivated the Phase Shifter.

Oh, oh no, if you were holding onto something from the Shadowzone when you phased, _apparently_ it came with you. Probably that info would be interesting to Ratchet later, but for now it meant that Smokescreen still had a hand attached to his face and was still screaming.

He was also trapped in the little gully, cut off by rocks, a fact that was driven home as he ran back and forth, smashing into the rocky walls. Panicking, Smokescreen phased and unphased by turns, with Skyquake roars cutting in and out like someone was flipping through radio stations. The Autobot tore at the hand, trying to pull it loose, but only managed to shift it from his face to his neck.

 _Fine, you wanna play that way? Well, get ready to lose!_ Smokescreen activated the phase shifter, listened for Skyquake, and ran the opposite direction.

He plunged into the wall, into darkness. _Just gotta wait for the right moment . . . the right moment . . ._ Light hit his optics and he reacted instantly, swirling around, transforming, and deactivating the Phase Shifter all at once. The angle wasn't great—his vehicular form left a long scrape of paint against the rock before he got his bearings, but he was free from his attacker.

"Ha!" Smokescreen transformed again and leapt to his feet, pointing gleefully. "HA!"

The hand wiggled helplessly, swiveling on its wrist. But there was nothing it could do. Most of the arm it belonged to was stuck in the rock.

"Serves you right," Smokescreen said. He watched it struggle for a minute or two. Now that fear wasn't overruling rational thought, he was struck by just how _weird_ this was. "So, uh, you're not part of some itsy-bitsy mini-bot combiner, are you?"

The hand waggled back and forth in a parody of a headshake.

"You used to be attached to that big guy, Skyquake?"

The hand "nodded."

"So, uh . . ." Smokescreen swung his arms slightly. "How come you're alive, like on your own?"

The hand swiveled on its wrist joint so that its palm was facing upward and scraped a thin line in the metal with a single sharp talon. Purple energon slowly oozed from the wound.

"Dark Energon?"

Another nod.

So body parts cut off from zombies became mini-zombies. Huh. "Well, I hope you like that rock 'cause that's where you're staying till the rest of the Autobots get here! They'll know how to get rid of you. Probably with fire or something."

The hand flipped him off.

"Hey, rude! I don't have to put up with this." Smokescreen stalked away, finding shelter behind a rocky outcropping . . . although he peered around it from time to time to make sure his prisoner hadn't found a way to escape. He pressed a finger to his audial, activating his comm. "Hello, Autobot base?"

"Smokescreen?" It was Bumblebee's voice. Ratchet's shift must have ended. "Hey, what's up?"

"Nothing. Well, actually _not_ nothing, not at all, but—"

"Listen, I'm sorry I blew you off earlier. Just, you've _really_ got to be more careful of the humans."

"I know, I know—"

"You're not mad, are you? I haven't seen you around in a couple hours."

"I've been scouting—even if that's your job, heh. But nah, I'm not mad. And I've got big news!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, wait until you get a load of this!" Smokescreen peeked around the rock . . . and paused. The hand was still there, caught in the rock, but its demeanor was very different from the saucy defiance it had shown just a few minutes before. Now it slumped down from the wrist, its fingers hanging loosely, despondent and defeated.

Smokescreen bit his lip.

"Smokes? Are you still there?"

"Um, yeah. Yeah. Listen Bumblebee, can I call you back?"

"Well, sure—"

"Okay. Thanks." He cut off the call.

The hand didn't notice his approach until he was quite close. Its fingers rose slowly, when he stopped in front of it. If any emotion could be attributed to it, it would be caution.

"Hey. So I've been thinking . . ." Smokescreen took a deep breath and willed himself not to feel stupid. "You tried to choke me to death and that was real crappy of you. But maybe that all zombies know how to do. And if that's so then I guess I can't really blame you for it."

The hand twisted slightly to the side, reminiscent of a curious turbohound cocking its head.

"What I'm trying to say is I don't actually want to burn you. It just feels . . . mean. So if you want, I'll phase you back to the Shadowzone and let you go."

The hand was still for a long, long moment. Then it slowly shook back and forth.

"No? You don't want to go back?"

It gave a negative shake again.

"Then . . ." Smokescreen scrubbed the back of his helm. "Then do you want to . . . maybe . . . stay here in the real world . . . with me?"

The answer was unambiguous: a thumbs up.

* * *

Bumblebee rolled his chair from one end of the communications array . . . to the other. From one end . . . to the other. He was an energetic young bot and desk-duty wasn't his favorite. 

He wondered what Smokescreen had found. Some cool Earth animal? An energon deposit, maybe? That would be nice.

The yellow bot looked up as he heard footsteps coming from the outer bay. He perked up when he saw their leader striding in, still dusty from a day of patrolling.

"Welcome back, Optimus!" Bumblebee said. "Find any Decepticons?"

The Prime shook his head. "Not today."

"Um, I did though," a voice piped up behind the big bot. 

As they turned to regard Smokescreen as he walked in. Optimus' optics widened and Bumblebee gaped.

"Hey guys." Smokescreen smiled sheepishly around the severed arm he clutched upright against his chassis, its hand currently scritching him behind the audial. "It followed me home. Can I keep it?"

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little fic!
> 
> My friend Opatoes made a TFP random character generator and I ended up with "Smokescreen / Skyquake, prompt is 'Terrorcon'." How could I pass that up? ;)
> 
> So here we are. And there Smokescreen is, with an evil(?) arm as a pet. :)


End file.
